


A Vibration of Delight

by imachar



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imachar/pseuds/imachar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might have been a while for both of them, but apparently Pike and McCoy still know how sex is supposed to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vibration of Delight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Truth and consequences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/227689) by [Zauzat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zauzat/pseuds/Zauzat). 



> This can be read as a stand alone, but works much better if you read Zauzat's **Truth and Consequences** first.

His heart is hammering, edgy apprehension skittering along his nerves as he surveys the well-appointed hotel room, desperately trying to avoid the gaze of the man who is sitting on the end of the large and lavish bed making quick work of removing his boots. Now that the buzz of the Risan weed and the _rantunka_ has faded, and McCoy has had enough time to think about what he’s doing, he’s beginning to panic, to wonder if this really is a good idea. It’s not that he doesn’t want Pike, _oh fuck_ does he want him – McCoy’s been fantasizing about broad shoulders and long fingers and gray-blue eyes and _goddammit_ that voice, for months. But damn, he’s never actually had sex with a guy.

His heart takes another leap as Pike looks across the room at him, boots and socks successfully discarded and bestows _that_ smile on him, warm and curious and totally focused. To his chagrin McCoy feels the panic escalate, his breathing hitching slightly as he realizes that his confession of losing his virginity to the woman he went on to marry means that Pike probably has a pretty good handle on his level of inexperience and isn’t that embarrassing as all hell. He’s thirty-fucking-four years old, he hasn’t gotten laid in eight months – he rarely does casual, and never professionals or colleagues and that pretty much limits your options when you’re stuck in a flying tin-can for months at a time – and the last thing he wants is to fuck _this_ up because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

McCoy had developed deep and highly inconvenient feelings for Pike during the long difficult months after life had gone to hell above Vulcan. He had watched the newly minted Admiral bull his way through months of miserable, exhausting physical therapy with grace and determination and endless good humour. Had watched him adjust to life without a ship, trading his dream and his future for an Earth-bound life. And most of all, had watched as he’d negotiated the delicate dance of mentoring and encouraging the Enterprise’s new captain without them coming to blows. All that open, generous integrity wrapped in a lean, sleek form that was only enhanced by the new lines of pain and experience on his face and the sudden encroachment of silver into the darker hair at his temples had captivated McCoy. But it was only in the year since the Enterprise had launched, when he’d been unable to get thoughts of Starfleet’s newest admiral out of his head, that he’d realized just how much trouble he was in - unsure whether Pike was interested in men in general, never mind himself in the particular.

He hadn’t been surprised at his own attraction to Pike, he was well aware where he fell on the Kinsey scale. But in the years since Jocelyn he’d never acted on the impulse to pick up guys, women were physically and psychologically easier for him to deal with. In the wake of his divorce he’d eschewed anything more than the occasional and mutually agreed one-night-stand and he’d had no desire to flaunt his inexperience and risk awkwardly bad sex when all he wanted was a quick and satisfying orgasm. In retrospect, maybe a few fumbling fucks with guys he’d never see again might have been a good idea, just to cover his humiliating lack of proficiency now that he’s actually faced with a man that he really, really wants, and that he’s pretty sure, thanks to Boyce’s manipulative behavior, wants him in return.

“You still with me?” Pike has paused, his fingers poised to unfasten the rest of his shirt and McCoy steels himself nodding brusquely, trying to rein in his natural inclination to cover his anxiety with gruff aggression. As if he can read the apprehension Pike tilts his head and beckons McCoy over with one long finger.

“C’mere Len – I won’t bite.” The smile widens and turns slightly predatory. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Oh fuck he’s _so_ screwed. McCoy edges away from the door and steadies himself with a long, slow breath, watching rapt as Pike goes back to working on the fastenings of his shirt. The slow reveal of a broad, well-furred chest sends a fresh wash of desire straight to his groin and he hisses sharply as his cock begins to fill. Oh god, he wants this so badly, badly enough that for all his apprehension he mentally kicks himself in the ass and forces himself to keep moving. He fetches up against the edge of the bed, between Pike’s spread jean-clad knees, still unable to look the other man in the eye, his gaze fixing instead on the thick ridge in the denim that betrays Pike’s interest as well as the fact that he dresses to the left. A hand comes to rest on McCoy’s breastbone, stroking gently across the soft cotton of his shirt, fingers teasing the buttons and skating across already peaked nipples.

“Look at me.” Pike’s voice is low and soft and utterly compelling. It’s one of the things that has given McCoy a hard-on for this man since their first meeting – deep and rich and, when used just right – like now – incredibly carnal and McCoy can’t resist it. He lifts his eyes just a hair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Pike is below his line of sight and McCoy can meet his gaze without moving his head, still bowed, observing through his lashes as he finally looks into steady – and, oh fuck, completely lust-blown – gray-blue. The fine lines at the corners of Pike’s eyes are tight with warmth and just a hint of humour, and McCoy feels his breath shudder out in a quiet gasp as the wandering hand curls up around his nape and gently tugs his head down so that he’s close enough to kiss.

He’s not entirely sure in what ways he expected kissing a man to be different from what he’s used to, more aggressive perhaps and infused with some kind of predatory need to assert dominance and control but he certainly didn’t expect this confident and gratifyingly tender exploration. At first nothing more than the steady press of lips that are warm and firm and mobile and then the tease of an agile tongue, just the tip of it, exploring along the seam of McCoy’s mouth, an enticing request for entry. With a little sound that telegraphs his escalating arousal McCoy leans in, one hand resting on Pike’s shoulder and shudders at the wash of raw lust that floods him as he succumbs and the kiss deepens into a lush, exquisitely carnal exploration.

He’s aware that he’s gripping Pike’s shoulder a little too hard, still anxious, still fighting his instinct to back away before this gets to the point of no return. But kissing is something McCoy knows he can do well and it takes him only a moment to recover his equilibrium and relax. He lets Pike explore for a long time before he returns the favor and sinks his tongue deep, to revel in the taste and texture – warm, wet and slick with hints of fine scotch and the cinnamon spicy heat of _rantunka_ still lingering. Gentle fingers tug in his hair and McCoy eases his own grip, sliding his fingers up the smooth curve of throat and jaw, stroking his thumb over the pulse spot, and feeling the blood thrumming fast beneath the skin.

The physical manifestation of Pike’s growing interest gives McCoy the confidence to explore further, sliding his free hand down, tracing his fingers across the sharp relief of Pike’s clavicle, lingering for a moment with one finger pressed against the super-sternal notch before he lays his hand out flat and draws it down over a broad, well-muscled chest. His cock throbs at the sensation of soft, thick curls under his fingers, this _really_ turns him on – the strength and power and sheer unambiguous maleness of the body under his hands. Still, he’s startled when Pike explores in return, one hand coming to rest against the firm ridge in McCoy’s chinos, and he can’t contain the surprise that makes him recoil from the confident touch. Apparently unfazed Pike continues the steady pressure, slowly disengaging from the kiss and pulling back to raise a gently inquiring eyebrow.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?”

McCoy feels himself flush; knows he must be red from his chest to the roots of his hair, but he steels himself to shake his head in a curt denial.

“No; thought about it; was tempted -- but never enough to take the risk.” He’s laying himself open here, hoping to any deity that might be listening that he’s not about to make a fool of himself. “Not until now – not until you.”

He really doesn’t know what Pike is looking for out of this tryst, but his reaction to Boyce’s question, the sheer reluctance with which his confession of wanting to fuck McCoy had been ripped out of him, suggests that this is no passing whim.

“That’s more flattering than you can possibly imagine.” There is warmth in Pike’s eyes and it sends a wave of relief rolling through McCoy. Before he has time to respond he’s rewarded with another kiss - long, slow, and achingly arousing. The pressure on his cock returns, Pike using the heel of his hand to rub rhythmically against the hard length, even as he curves long fingers around the soft heft of McCoy’s balls.

Oh fuck, this is so very much more than he ever expected and McCoy shakes with the force of his arousal. He feels like a teenager, all razor-edged need and hair-trigger reactions, and for a moment it’s almost too much and he pulls back with a shiver, fingers still curled loosely in the silky fur that covers Pike’s chest. Once more there’s a question in Pike’s eyes, but it’s gently asked, not a hint of pressure and McCoy takes a breath, grateful that he’s at least not blushing again and gruffly mumbles.

“Sorry, just nervous.”

“Don’t be, I’m a little out of practice myself.” Pike’s smile is rueful and a little self-deprecating. “It’s been a while.”

As much as he might like to know more, McCoy doesn’t ask for specifics, he has the feeling that Pike hasn’t had sex since before the Narada and he’s pretty sure that having that suspicion confirmed would just increase his nervousness. Instead he gives Pike one of his patented skeptical looks and growls.

“Could have fuckin’ fooled me. I’m ‘bout ready to come in my pants.”

That engenders a quiet laugh and Pike leans their foreheads together. “Oh no, I think we’re going to take our time; we’re going to do this right, and I think that means you get to do all the work the first time.”

McCoy thinks he knows what Pike is offering, but he can’t quite believe it – he had assumed, had naturally thought, that Pike’s inherent authority would require him to top. But apparently McCoy, for all his training in psychology, knows far less about the way Pike’s mind works than he thought. And in that moment a little more of his nervousness dissipates – he might not ever have had sex with a guy, but he’s a doctor, goddammit, and he knows anatomy. He can do this, and he’s pretty damned sure he can do it very well. Still he needs Pike to be explicit so he asks,

“You want me to…?”

“Yes Len…” Pike leans in until his mouth is brushing McCoy’s ear and he whispers, very low and very, very husky, “…I want you to fuck me.”

Desire slams through him so hard that his knees shake and almost buckle and McCoy wraps his fingers tightly into the iron-gray curls and holds Pike in place as he leans in to kiss the other man with a fierce, almost desperate heat, pulling away after a long breathless moment to gasp, “Oh fuck yes, Ch…Chris.” He stumbles just a little over the unfamiliarity of the name, but it’s only a momentary lapse, he’s pretty sure that an invitation to fuck someone includes implicit permission to use their given name and he goes on with only the slightest hesitation. “I want that so fucking badly.”

“Good man.” Pike’s at just the right height to address the fact that McCoy is still fully dressed and within seconds the dark shirt is open and Pike is happily multi-tasking, hands busy with the fastenings of McCoy’s pants even as his mouth trails, hot, wet, nips and kisses across the newly exposed flesh of his chest and McCoy just buries his face in the thick soft hair and groans deep in his throat when a large, competent hand finally wraps around his cock.

“Nice…” Pike is whispering roughly, McCoy shivering at the contact of warm mobile lips on his skin with each word. “…long and thick and so fucking hard and just the right kind of curve to make me scream every time you go deep.”

Oh, _Jesus H. Christ on a crutch_ , at this rate McCoy’s going to come from the sound of that voice alone, never mind what those clever hands are doing to his prick. Long fingers wrapped around the shaft, slightly calloused fingertips stroking up the thick vein on the underside as an adroit thumb passes over the slick head again and again – pressing lightly into the tender, seeping slit and making McCoy gasp and shudder.

It takes all his concentration, and not a little help from Pike, for McCoy to kick off his chinos and boxer-briefs, remembering first to toe off the short, regulation ankle boots that they all seem to wear even when they’re off duty, and then shrug out of his shirt. Shivering with pleasure at the quiet whispers of approval that meet each new revelation of skin, McCoy begins to genuinely relax at last, and he lets himself be drawn down onto the bed. He’s a little reluctant at first to rest his full weight on the body that’s spread across the thick, silky comforter, until it really hits him that this is a man; broad, and strong and powerfully built with a frame that’s only a shade slighter than his own. Pike moves in a long sinuous stretch as McCoy covers him and he can’t contain the moan of deep pleasure as he settles into the cradle of Pike’s hips and lines his naked, and already leaking, cock along the still denim-clad length of a nicely firmed erection.

“Goddammit, that is so fucking good.” Panting slightly, McCoy can’t stop himself from rutting against the body beneath him, the friction of the denim burning just enough to make his breath whisper out in a quiet hiss. Pike laughs as he curls his hand around McCoy’s neck and draws him back into a sweet, sloppy kiss, tongue flicking across the full, soft warmth of his lower lip.

Another brush of his over sensitized cock against stretched denim and McCoy pushes up and away with a grunt of frustration. “Overdressed.”

He rolls to the side and tries, with shaking fingers, to work open the fly of Pike’s jeans, breaking off for a moment to knead across the firm abdomen, stroking through the silky, soft fur. “I want you naked.”

Oh yes, he’s definitely getting into his stride now – confidence sliding through him, honey sweet and warm like a fine Tennessee whiskey. But his fingers are still clumsy as they go back to the fly and with a low laugh Pike bats his hand away and unfastens the jeans himself. It takes both of them to work the form-fitting denim down over heavily muscled thighs, humour leavening the potential awkwardness of the process.

“Fuck – could you have found jeans that were any tighter?”

“All the better to attract your attention.”

“Really? You were trying to attract my attention. I didn’t even know I was going to see you tonight.”

“I wasn’t sure either, but I make a point of living in hope.” Pike hisses sharply as he kicks the jeans to the floor and McCoy’s hand skates up the inside of his now naked thigh, teasing just inside the open leg of his boxers. Careful fingers work in slow circles on the lightly furred skin as McCoy asks, still not quite convinced that he’s hearing this correctly.

“And you were living in hope of attracting _my_ attention?”

“Oh hell yes, for months. Although apparently I haven’t been doing a very good job of it.”

With a slightly disbelieving snort McCoy continues his tease, fingers close enough to Pike’s balls that he can feel the heat from them, can feel the slightest change in texture as the hair on his thighs shades into the shorter, tighter curls that cover his sac. Pike shivers, and apparently unwilling to play games any longer, hitches his ass up off the mattress and slides his boxers half way down his thighs, pausing to let McCoy get his hand out of the way and then kicking them off to join the jeans even as McCoy is asking,

“Good lord in the mornin’ – why me?”

“Why? Did you not hear what I told Jim; hands, mouth, eyes, desire to make you scream my name when you come, all of that and so much more.” Pike curls his hand into the heavy mass of straight dark hair that’s falling over McCoy’s forehead and cards it back gently. “So fucking gorgeous.” And the open affection in the gesture and the tone warms McCoy from the inside out, giving him the confidence to ask,

“Why didn’t you say something?”

There’s a deafening silence and McCoy looks up from where he’s been distracted by his contemplation of the gorgeous, thick curved cock rising out of a thicket of iron-gray curls to face a suddenly hesitant Pike. “I…like I said it’s been a while.”

“Yeah? You and me both” McCoy strokes an experimental finger up the hot silky skin watching, slightly awed, as Pike’s dick twitches at the touch. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it.”

Pike leans up on his elbows and chuffs another brief laugh. “I had no idea if you even did guys, let alone guys twice your age.”

“You are so fucking _not_ twice my age.” The growl is back in his voice, and McCoy crawls up the bed, pausing to rub his cheek against the soft fur on Pike’s chest, breathing him in – all clean musk shot through with warm woody notes of sandalwood and cedar – before he comes to rest, arms braced either side of Pike’s shoulders. With a grin that’s answered by one quirked eyebrow, McCoy drops his hips until he can feel the crisp rasp of hair against his belly and the unmistakable velvet heat of a well-firmed cock sliding alongside his own excruciatingly sensitive erection.

“Want me to prove it?” He’s not entirely sure where the hell this confidence is coming from but McCoy has always been pretty good at getting off the porch and running with the big dogs, even when he’s not sure that he’s got what it takes to piss in the tall grass, and he forges ahead. “Bet you dimes to dollars I can make you come like a fifteen-year-old.”

The body under him goes lax as Pike stretches his arms over his head and the grin is pure, unvarnished anticipation. “You know, I think maybe you could.” He pushes himself further up the bed, spreading out in a wanton sprawl that leaves his cock arching above his belly, in a perfect position for McCoy to lean down and use just the tip of his tongue to lick experimentally along the trembling length. Confidence flares again as the body beneath him surges up off the mattress in uninhibited delight and he explores, tongue flickering at the sensitive seam where foreskin meets shaft, all the way to the damp curve of the weeping tip. The unfamiliar, if not unwelcome, taste goes straight to his own cock, and it twitches against his belly as the electricity sparks up his spine.

Without stopping to think about what he’s doing McCoy shifts until he has the smooth head of Pike’s cock between his lips, lets his mouth fill with saliva and then slides down as far as he can. He can’t get anywhere close to taking the whole length - although he’s pretty sure with practice he might manage it – so he wraps his hand around the now slick base of the shaft and finds a rhythm that has both of them whimpering in seconds. Strong fingers curl into his hair and for just a fraction of a second McCoy freezes, relaxing only once he realizes that Pike has no intention of directing the proceedings, content instead to just stroke his hand through the heavy, silky strands.

Always a quick study it takes McCoy very little time to get Pike to a point of stuttering incoherence, but he knows how long it takes for a blow-job to make him come and suspects from the inarticulate begging noises coming from further up the bed that Pike isn’t any different. Pushing gently he persuades Pike to shift one leg up out of the way, making room for McCoy to slide his free hand down into the shadowed space beneath the lightly furred balls and stretch one exploring finger back to skate across the smooth, pliant skin of his perineum and then come to rest against the tight pucker of Pike’s ass.

With a groan and a curse Pike finds his voice again and that low baritone lifts the hair on McCoy’s neck as he growls “Fuck yes, right there – in me – _now_ goddammit.”

But – physician to the core - the less than ideal lubrication provided by spit makes McCoy nervous at the possibility of damage or discomfort and he reluctantly pulls off and gasps.

“Lube?”

There’s a long moment of silence and then a barked “Fuck. I swear I’m going to fucking kill Phil tomorrow.”

“No lube?” McCoy is sitting up now, one hand gently squeezing the twitching muscles of a warm thigh as Pike drops his head back against the pillow.

“Hell yeah, of course I have lube, just not to hand.” He groans, arm across his face. “Sorry, this all kind of took me by surprise, I should have been better prepared.”

Another squeeze and McCoy is laughing quietly. “Shit darlin’, ain’t no big deal – just tell me where it is.”

“Bathroom, top compartment of the wash kit that’s hanging behind the door.”

He’s back in moments and in the time he’s been gone Pike has pulled a spare pillow down to wedge under his hips and, although it doesn’t seem possible, he’s sprawled even more wantonly across the bed, the extra lift exposing cock and balls and ass in a way that sends whatever blood was left in McCoy’s body spiraling straight to his cock. Suddenly, achingly hard he slicks his hand and can’t resist stroking himself for a moment his cock twitching at the look he gets in response. Eyes dark with lust Pike grins at him, run his tongue across his lower lip and gestures a “come here” with two fingers.

And, as Pike orders, his voice in full command mode, “Get back here and get the fuck in me.” McCoy realizes that while he might be the one doing the fucking, there is absolutely no doubt about who is going to be in charge tonight and he’s surprisingly good with that. For someone who doesn’t take orders well and spends much of his life chafing against the restriction of quasi-military life, McCoy has a remarkably deep and rarely invoked need to just let go and let someone else take charge when he’s at his most vulnerable.

A single lube-slick finger fulfills Pike’s request even as McCoy leans down and occupies his mouth with the firm, full cock once more – licking now rather than sucking, his tongue sliding easily over the smooth, hot flesh, tracing the ridge of the corona – a touch that makes Pike whimper – and lapping across the now liberally weeping head. When he adds a second finger - astonished at the feel of the tight ring of muscle as it flexes at the intrusion - and pushes deep with a twist to brush decisively across the firm swell of prostate he’s rewarded with a spurt of alkali-bitter fluid against his tongue and a low, almost desperate whine of “Jesus, fuck, more.”

He goes back to sucking, determined to fulfill his promise to make Pike come fast and hard and quickly finds his rhythm again – both hands occupied this time, surprised at just how much he’s enjoying this. Theoretically he’s always understood that there is gratification to be found in the gifting of this kind of pleasure, but the reality of it is so much more powerful and arousing than he would have believed and he can feel his own cock leaking as he thrusts slow and shallow against the soft silk of the bed cover.

In barely more than a minute or two McCoy feels the unmistakable shudder and tightening spasm that heralds Pike’s orgasm and before he has time to decide whether he’s going to swallow or spit, Pike is tugging at his hair and pulling him away. “Fuck, fuuuuuck, gonna come _now_.”

McCoy lifts his head just in time to catch the first burst of come on his chin and watches fascinated as the body beneath him shudders and arches, the spasming cock spattering come in translucent arcs across Pike’s chest and belly. The sight makes McCoy’s cock twitch and throb, and he grits his teeth, trying to slow the rhythm of his thrusts against the bed, trying to stop himself from coming _rightdamnednow_ , and wouldn’t that be a waste.

When it’s over neither of them moves for a long moment and then Pike opens his eyes and smiles lazily at McCoy who just holds his gaze and leans down to lick the last clinging strand of viscous fluid from the slowly subsiding cock. It gives a leisurely twitch as McCoy licks one more time and then he pulls back with a grin.

“How long?” For all the question’s lack of specificity they both know exactly what McCoy is asking and Pike laughs, a lazy, satisfied sound. “Longer than you want to wait – at least an hour, probably more.” And he motions McCoy closer. “Come here – make yourself useful, I want to know what it feels like to have you fuck me.”

With one long leg wrapped around his waist and strong hands framing his face Leonard H. McCoy finds himself wordless and whimpering when he finally slides his cock past the patiently stretched muscle and deep into hot, yielding flesh. It’s almost unbearably tight and he gives a shuddering sigh as he bottoms out and for a moment lets his weight rest on the strong body beneath him. Bent forward, his forehead resting on Pike’s shoulder, he lets the waves of sensation roll through him as he flexes his hips and his cock twitches, surrounded by slippery supple heat. He’s brought back to the moment by Pike’s voice, low and languidly content.

“So good Len – you feel so fucking perfect inside me. Now just let go, give me everything you’ve got. Just because it’s been a while doesn’t mean I’m fragile.”

And that’s all the permission McCoy needs, pushing up to brace himself on his arms, feeling the strain in the muscles of his back and shoulders and chest as he uses all of his not inconsiderable strength to bury himself again and again and again in the tight, clasping heat.

It doesn’t take long.

Fuck, it’s been eight months and if he’s honest with himself he’s amazed that he lasted long enough to achieve penetration, never mind managing to sustain anything more than the most perfunctory attempt at actually fucking. But it’s so, _so_ good that he would give anything to make it last, immersed in the exquisite intimacies of sex that for the first time in what feels like forever isn’t just about getting off and for a moment he stalls the fierce drive of his hips, trying to hold off his orgasm for just a heartbeat longer.

A groan from the body beneath him makes McCoy look up to find he’s being observed, Pike’s gaze, heavy-lidded and content as he reaches up to curl one hand around McCoy’s nape, stroking his fingers into the sweat-damp hair.

“Come on Len, come for me – I know you’re so, so close.”

With a shudder McCoy hitches his hips, sliding a fraction deeper one last time, and then lets the wave roll over him – white lightning flashing out along his nerves as he bucks convulsively into the sweet, tight grip of Pike’s flesh – intimately aware of each pulse of fluid as it floods the stretched channel. Aware too that he’s murmuring nonsense, inarticulate, disjointed obscenities and whispers of gratitude until his voice stutters out in a barely audible stream-of-consciousness litany.

“Fuck…Chris…Jesus…fuck…goddammit…oh…Jesus…Chris.”

And then there’s silence once more, broken only by the shuddering sound of McCoy breathing into the sweat-slick arc of Pike’s neck, damp bodies crushed together as his muscles finally give up and he settles onto the warm, strong curve of the body beneath him.

It takes a while before either of them is coherent and it’s Pike that moves first, rolling McCoy onto his side and leaning in to steal a slow, languid kiss. It’s reciprocated with lazy heat until, still slightly dazed, McCoy blinks rapidly and opens his eyes to grin at Pike. “Can’t believe we wasted so much fucking time - we could have been doing this months ago.”

He gets a smile in return and a finger stroked across his forehead, sweeping stray strands of hair back off the still damp skin. “Well, lets see what we can do to make up for it tonight. Did you see the bath-tub from hell in there?” Pike tilts his head towards the bathroom and the smile turns wide and filthy. “You want to see how much fun we can have getting cleaned up?”


End file.
